


Coping Mechanisms

by IncandescentAntelope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety Disorder, BDSM, Edgeplay, Glove Kink, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings, Restraints, Retired Victor Nikiforov, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Club, Suit Kink, Top Drop, soulmates without magic love, spanking and paddling, the porn sprouted a plot overnight don't look at me, trauma recovery through kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29405205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Viktor's life as a retired skater has felt empty... he needs something new. It turns outsomeonenew is exactly what he needs.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, background Christophe Giacometti/Phichit Chulanont
Comments: 40
Kudos: 146





	Coping Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> As a warning for anyone who might find it uncomfortable-- there are a few mentions of both Yuuri and Viktor sleeping with other people. This is a bdsm au and casual sex is a thing. (Before this fic, that is.)
> 
> Beta'd by Tess and alpha'd by Rikichie!
> 
> references:  
> [Viktor's harness](https://somethingyoirelated.tumblr.com/post/162605856606/i-couldnt-resist-to-draw-victor-like-this-and)  
> [Yuuri's vest](https://innovacorsetry.com/products/corset-vest)  
> [chris's outfit](https://imgur.com/a/DTtsbZ7)

The music was thudding and heavy in Viktor’s veins as he eased his sub off the Saint Andrew’s cross. His sleepy, blissed smile did wonders for the ache in Viktor’s heart; the exhaustion always brought a softness into a sub’s features that Viktor found himself envying more often than not.

He’d been domming for years now, wringing pain and pleasure from subs (and the occasional verse or adventurous dom) had always been his means of escape. When he was still skating it was cathartic, working out frustrations from the ice or providing others with the pleasure he couldn’t find for himself after retiring. 

Viktor found himself a decent private gym to take him on as a trainer, and his handful of wealthy clients were pleasant enough to manage. But the sweat and exhaustion he guided a politician’s niece through was far different from what he did at the Cameo. That had long become more satisfying than breaking someone down at the club. Holding a flogger didn’t feel the same anymore, not that he had ever been able to identify  _ why _ it didn’t feel like he thought it should. 

Maybe his usefulness was beginning to wane. 

Some doms came to the Cameo in search of long-term arrangements, long-term playmates to scene with, to collar… permanently. Viktor had given up on that search long ago. At the beginning, when he was far too naive to be exploring the scene, was rarely approached by doms seeking a sub. Viktor didn’t attract doms. Especially not with the way subs flocked to him.

His few attempts at properly subbing had been quickly extinguished by poorly mannered doms and a forceful end to a scene after explicit boundaries had been crossed. It was difficult to allow himself the room for any other kinds of expression afterward, memories of that scene, that dom, instantly flooded back. Control was held with firm reins by Viktor and Viktor only, and no one had since dared to question that choice.

He had long given up on his search for his soulmate as well. He hoped that whoever they were, they had found someone to love them regardless. He couldn’t ask someone to join him in this empty life with him, this life without life, without love. The search had completely taken over his life when he was young, but years in the spotlight, multiple attempts to touch him without consent, a not insignificant number of strangers claiming that they were fated… it was all so exhausting. 

He was better off alone, and he had decided as such years ago. Makkachin was all he really needed.

He helped his sweet sub to a recovery room and eased him onto the plush daybed. “Let’s get you something to eat and drink,  _ da _ ?” Viktor asked in a soft voice, sweeping his sweaty, dark blonde bangs back out of his face.

“Thank you,” he answered with a woozy smile. “Never thought I’d get my ass caned by Viktor Nikiforov.” 

Viktor winced. Fans sometimes found him here, but they usually were usually much worse about hiding it. Aftercare seemed to work it out of this one. 

“Well, here I am.” Viktor replied, opening a juice box and joining him on the couch. “How do you feel? Okay?”

“Amazing,” he answered with a dopey, blissed expression, “So  _ so _ good.” Viktor smiled softly and stayed with him for a few more minutes, talking about nothing, avoiding skating as much as he could. “Thank you, Viktor,” he said as he stood to go, and Viktor smiled warmly. 

“It was my pleasure.” He answered mechanically, heading back out into the club.

* * *

Christophe was waiting at the bar for him when he returned, wearing those leather lace-up shorts and a bright red harness. He was buzzing with energy that Viktor envied. His soulmark was covered by his collar, the heavy ring at the front marking him clearly as a submissive.

His soulmate, Phichit, had expressed very little interest in the public scene, but was always happy to let Chris explore at clubs, sending him off with the request to come back home for cuddles and aftercare. 

“Another one?” Christophe asked, able to read Viktor’s expression from across the room. Viktor nodded, feeling much more exhausted than he had expected. “We should start screening them at the door.”

“How? Grilling everyone who walks in with Viktor Nikiforov trivia?” Viktor laughed sardonically, dropping onto a barstool and thanking Georgi when he slid a gin and tonic into his hand without asking. “Maybe I just need to find a new hobby.”

Christophe rolled his eyes and sank into the seat beside him. “Do you want to scene? Let it out a little?”

Viktor shook his head. “Not unless you want to wield the paddle.” Chris rubbed his back and sat with him for a while, until someone hooked Chris by the o-ring and pulled him onto the dance floor. Viktor didn't look up from his cocktail, still happy to mope.

“Vitya,” Georgi hummed after Chris had gone, “Have you met the new guy?”

Viktor perked up for a moment, scanning the room. The usual crowd was in attendance, sprawled over couches and propped up on small stages scattered around the room as the handful of newcomers watched on the fringes, excited and nervous all at once. Viktor remembered his first visit, his bright-eyed optimism was met with equal measure by Chris’s playful sensuality. The two had only ever been friends, but they were each other’s most consistent play partners. Until Phichit, of course. 

They still played, of course, Phichit had trusted Viktor with his sub more times than he could count; Phichit much preferred nonsexual kink to sexual, and Chris’s libido was barely touched by his boyfriend’s preferences. Or his asexuality. 

"In the back, by the Sybian." Georgi directed, and Viktor's eyes snapped to the far corner of the room, where a row of black leather fucking machines were set into small booths. Sometimes they were curtained off for privacy, sometimes not. Most times not. Christophe had found himself absent from his pants, riding one of the machines with the smug confidence Viktor had come to know. 

Beside him was one of the most attractive men Viktor had seen in the club in what felt like years, dressed in all black from his head to his feet. His dark hair was swept back over his head in a gleaming wave, his posture was poised and elegant, confident and strong as he held Christophe’s thigh. The touch might have been mistaken for soothing, but it was controlled. Viktor could see the jump of tendons flexing in his wrist below his cuffed sleeve and above the wrist of his black glove.

_ Gloves.  _

That was certainly one way to avoid finding your soulmate, Viktor thought to himself. Maybe he could do the same. The thought was just as repulsive as he expected it to be. He could never not  _ touch _ someone. Even if it meant he could find his soulmate by leaving his soul mark as a handprint on their ass or a fist around their throat. 

This new dom, his business-like manner, the slight curl to his lips… Viktor  _ had _ to know him. He was gorgeous, the certain gracile slope of his jaw had Viktor’s tongue lolling out of his mouth, aching to lick him there. Viktor felt himself being carried toward the wall of booths, falling in among the other few onlookers. 

“That isn’t all you’ll give me, is it?” Christophe whined, his round cheeks already bright red with exertion. Viktor knew Chris’s tells well, and he was barely holding together his facade. 

New Guy smirked and clicked that dreaded down arrow, dropping the machine beneath Chris to a slow roll. Viktor loved toying with subs this way, but watching like this had him wondering if he had only done it for the sake of jealousy. Chris let out a desperate whine and bucked his hips, clearly aching for some sort of friction. Viktor felt his stomach twist at the low, disappointed click of New Guy’s tongue. 

“I thought we decided I was in charge,  _ mon ange, _ ” New Guy replied, purring Chris’s preferred endearment like it was nothing. It rolled on his tongue like aged brandy that Viktor craved to taste himself. “Isn’t that why  _ I _ have the remote?” His voice was soft but unyielding, and Viktor felt himself craving orders from him.

Chris bit his lip and nodded, letting himself indulge in the fantasy that Viktor craved himself. "Yes sir," Chris answered, his tongue flicking out over his lower lip. "Please, sir," he begged, that playful tone not leaving his voice. "More?"

New Guy clicked his tongue again and Viktor winced as if he was chastising him instead of Chris. Viktor didn't usually touch himself at the club, not when subs were eager to do it for him, not when he was watching like this. Viktor was not a voyeur, but an exhibitionist unfortunately stuck firmly in the wrong role. He had never felt horribly comfortable with public displays as a dom. But as New Guy's sub… the sentiment might be entirely different. 

Viktor palmed himself through his pants, feeling sensitive and eager in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. There were others openly touching themselves now, of course, but Viktor felt the need to keep his composure. For at least a little while longer.

"More  _ what, mon ange? _ " New Guy crooned, stroking Christophe's clenched thigh. "More touch? More teasing? Use your words."

Chris furrowed immaculately sculpted brows. "More  _ fucking _ ," he huffed, nodding down at himself. "I can't come like this, sir, you know that."

"I'll take that bet." New Guy snarked back, pressing that down button again, dropping the sensations to almost nothing. Christophe thrashed at the loss, whining like the champion brat that he was; Viktor watched on as New Guy danced gloved hands over Christophe’s writhing body, every muscle tensing with his touch. He plucked Chris’s nipples and Viktor’s body rang in harmony to it, the ghost sensation of it convincing enough to feel himself.

New Guy was calm and composed, beautiful in his rigidity. He didn’t give an inch to Christophe’s demands, holding control firmly like the ring of Chris’s collar with one hand, the remote in iron-clad grasp of the other. Viktor’s mind wandered to salacious places as Christophe reached for his cock, New Guy tutting and swatting them away. 

“No,” he breathed with confidence, his amber eyes flashing deliciously in the red light of the booth. Christophe was panting, his lower lip was trembling in that telltale way. “You’ve given me control and I intend to use it how I see fit.”

Viktor felt the breath rush out of his body at those words, shuddering as if he had been spoken to directly. Those honey gold eyes flashed at Viktor and his breath lodged in his throat. Viktor knew immediately that he had been seen, not simply with that demanding gaze but the mind behind it as well. He  _ had _ to introduce himself. 

He looked away, shifting from one foot to the other. The heat of his gaze felt like it would burn if he looked for too long. When he looked back up, those dark eyes had refocused on Chris’s taut, trembling frame. The way he held himself, the easy command of posture, he couldn’t be  _ new _ . He couldn’t possibly be green, the way he had completely combed through Chris’s tangles so easily. 

Viktor could hear the buzz of the Sybian mounting as the up button was clicked, Chris’s gasps climbing higher and higher until it was nothing more than a silent scream of pleasure. 

“Come.” Soft lips directed, and Chris obeyed, his body jerking wildly through his orgasm. 

The small crowd of gathered onlookers dispersed, leaving Viktor to watch him ease Chris off the machine and onto a leather couch behind it. “Help me, will you Silver?”

It took a moment for Viktor to understand that it was him New Guy was referring to. “Me? O-oh, that’s me.” He stammered, tipping forward into what he hoped was a confident stride. 

“I saw you two chatting, I’m sure he’d love your help in the recovery room.” New Guy said with ease, sliding the long phallic attachment off the machine and dropping it into a dirty toy bin. Viktor held his best friend up and ran his hands through his hair in the soothing way he knew Christophe liked as New Guy sprayed down the machine to disinfect it.

“Vitya,” Christophe babbled, giving his best attempt at a whisper and failing with flair, “He’s really good. You’ve  _ gotta  _ try him.”

Viktor flushed dark red and he saw the tiniest flicker of a smile cross those collected features. “Let’s get you something to eat, hm? Phichit will kill me if I send you home delirious.”

Chris smiled bright and wide. “I love him. Can you send him a picture of me?” Viktor laughed and nodded, making the mental note to do so as soon as they left the floor. The walk to (and their time in) the recovery room was quiet, Viktor and New Guy sharing Chris’s weight between them as they walked. Even as he supported half of a full-grown man’s weight, he was strong and sure, confident in every way that Viktor envied. 

His control was utterly delicious, and Viktor wanted to give him  _ his _ control too. 

Chris had his head in Viktor’s lap and he stroked his hand through his messy curls gently as New Guy opened a bottle of orange juice for him. 

“So.” Viktor began, cursing himself for his inability to summon anything more thoughtful than that. 

“So.” New Guy mirrored, sinking into the couch and pulling Chris’s legs into his lap with a confidence that had Viktor’s curiosity piqued. “You liked watching, did you?”

Viktor nodded once, sipping his water slowly. “I don’t usually… I’m usually the one putting on a show.” As much as it was the truth, Viktor couldn’t help but leave a few breadcrumbs. He wouldn’t know how to cope if New Guy was just another fan. Maybe he would have to make an exception. “What do you do?”

“Nothing interesting. A lot of sitting.” New Guy answered easily, rubbing soothing circles in Chris’s limp thighs. A sharp pang of jealousy rocked through Viktor then, wanting to feel those hands on him instead. Not that Chris hadn’t earned his aftercare, of course. “You?”

“Trainer.” Viktor replied, his tongue too heavy in his mouth for much else. His eyes were focused on New Guy’s hands, gently massaging feeling back into Chris’s sore calves and feet. When Chris played, he played full-contact, every muscle engaged as if his life depended on it. 

"I'm Yuuri. And you... you need something different. Don't you?"

Viktor swallowed thickly, shivering at how quickly he had been pinned down. “I… well, yes,” he managed, feeling his heart thudding in his throat. 

“How long have you been pretending to dom?” Yuuri asked, one eyebrow lifted in clear question. Viktor’s tongue was tied in knots when he tried to speak. Yuuri pushed, firm and unmoving against whatever dominance Viktor had been pretending to wield. Whatever he had been doing before was nothing in comparison to Yuuri.

“It’s been… five years.” Viktor answered the first question, squirming despite the recovering Swiss in his lap. Yuuri saw through him with such painful efficiency it made him wonder if he could read his mind. 

“What’s your  _ name _ , Silver?” Yuuri asked, his tone was musical in a way that Viktor couldn’t decipher. Did he recognize him? Had he played into Yuuri’s hand? 

“I’m Viktor.”

“Viktor.” Yuuri purred, his accent softening Viktor’s name in every perfect way. Whatever his past lives had done to deserve Yuuri’s attention, his voice saying his name, Viktor was grateful for it. “That’s a lovely name.”

Viktor worried his lower lip between his teeth, feeling Yuuri’s compliment like liquid warmth in his core. A gloved hand cupped his cheek and pulled his lip free, sending a chill down Viktor’s spine. 

“Don’t keep your words in,  _ Viktor. _ ” Yuuri whispered, pressing his thumb against Viktor’s lips and he shuddered again. “I want to hear everything that comes to your mind.”

“How did you know?” Viktor asked, grateful that Chris was still mostly asleep in his lap. 

“The way you were watching left nothing to the imagination.” Yuuri answered, the ghost of something playful teasing at the corners of his lips. “You’re not exactly  _ subtle _ , Viktor.”

Viktor felt heat flood into his features then; Yuuri’s hand was still holding his jaw, stroking a gloved thumb over his cheek. “I’ve never really been one for subtlety.” 

Yuuri laughed, his own cheeks coloring a light pink below what Viktor recognized as a thin covering of concealer. He had thousands of questions, not least of which involving how exactly he should ask Yuuri for more. He had never gone out with someone he had met at the club, but the very thought of being touched the way Chris had been,  _ so publicly, _ made his stomach churn in the worst way. The memory was still so fresh, the pain still burned.

He wanted more, and he had to have it. "Can we get dinner sometime?" He managed to ask after they had helped Chris back into his street clothes and into a taxi headed home. 

Yuuri’s eyes glittered in the low light of the club like polished jasper. He was smiling like it was a challenge. Yuuri leaned close enough for Viktor to feel the warmth of his breath on his skin, but just far enough to crave the touch of his lips, the heat of Yuuri’s mouth sliding open and marking the column of his throat.

"I was worried you would never ask.” Yuuri crooned, curling his fingers into the loops of Viktor’s pants and tugging him in close. Viktor gasped at the bare skin of his chest brushing against Yuuri’s shirt, just that friction had his head spinning. “Meet me at  _ Vicino _ tomorrow night. Eight. Wear something nice." 

Viktor shuddered again; Yuuri hadn’t asked. It was an order. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. 

“Yes  _ sir. _ ” Viktor whispered, and Yuuri’s lips cocked upward. Viktor wanted to taste them. The movement was so smooth and tender that he could have blinked and missed it; Yuuri cupped his jaw carefully. 

“Good boy.”

The following day was a torture like Viktor had never known. He found himself staring at the clock on the wall, checking his phone every few minutes; even when he was with a client, easing them into a comfortable low-back stretch, he checked his watch. 

Time moved slow as molasses when there was something to look forward to. Especially something as exciting, as nerve-wracking as dinner with Yuuri. And potential play after dinner with Yuuri. They had shared small talk after they planned for their date, and Viktor had barely had the strength to let him leave when last call was announced. He had nearly gone home with the man that night, but a gloved hand wrapped firmly around the back of his neck.

“I want to build  _ anticipation _ , Viktor.” Yuuri had whispered, holding him tightly, pulling him inches from the end of his own nose. They didn’t touch. But  _ oh _ , Viktor ached for it.

Yuuri left with a copy of Viktor's kink profile, the secondary one that listed him as a submissive. Viktor was given a copy of Yuuri's as well, and _ god _ , they seemed to align almost perfectly.

Viktor had fought the urge to touch himself when he went home that night, contrary to his usual post-club routine of a thorough self-fucking in the shower. He’d been buzzing all morning, pent up and desperate for something,  _ anything, _ the thought of Yuuri and his gloved hands on him had him subtly adjusting himself throughout every session. What did Yuuri have in mind? What would he do, if Viktor let him push his boundaries? His client cleared her throat and Viktor continued working, pushing himself away from the edge carefully. He still had half an hour of this session. 

The true fight came when, after he had finished his appointments and his own workout, the gym had closed, the doors were locked, and he was left alone in the locker room. The last metallic clang of a locker sounded loud, echoing off tile and mirrored walls. The only remaining sound was an occasional dripping from a faucet left slightly askew, but Viktor could barely focus on anything beyond what was happening between his legs. 

He turned the shower tap up as hot as he could manage, scrubbing away every trace of sweat from his skin. His skin felt raw and sensitive, aware of every drop of water, every brush of his own fingers. He could feel Yuuri’s hand on the back of his neck, pushing him to his knees— his hand cupping his jaw and pushing his thumb into his mouth. His lips parted with a moan and his imagination burst to life with images of Yuuri standing above him. Powerful, perfect, effortless in his control. 

“Yuuri-” Viktor heard himself whisper, his cock throbbing and drooling precome onto the tile floor. He could feel the stitching of Yuuri’s gloves dragging over his skin, the warmth of his mouth whispering commands in his ear, the commands he had given to subs in the past. Imagining Yuuri, above him, with that business-like poise...

Viktor’s hand shook as he reached for his cock, the length of it an angry red where it jutted out from his pelvis. Certain that he was alone in the locker room, he sank to his knees, letting the hot water spray his back. It was grounding, a tether to the real world as he let himself be carried away by fantasy. 

“You look lovely on your knees.” Yuuri might say, circling him slowly, evaluating his posture— pushing his shoulders back, tipping his chin upward, his chest pressing outward— god, he felt like he might burst. A sharp gasp ripped free as he wrapped his hand around himself, as Yuuri might do. 

“So hard, so desperate, aren’t you?”

Viktor felt himself nodding, his wet hair sending water droplets across the cubicle walls. The tile was cold and hard under his knees, but he stayed, slowly dragging his hand along his length. Yuuri whispered praise in his ear as he moved, directed him to touch his pebbling nipples, cradle his balls in his hand and roll them gently together— his orgasm was building in his core like gathering storm clouds, like a star compressing before it bursts into a supernova.

“ _ Fuck,” _ Viktor swore under his breath, “Please, Yuuri,” he gasped between panted breaths, his hand now stripping over his cock. What would Yuuri do, if he knew what he was doing? The question ignited every nerve ending in his body, white bursting behind his eyes. Would he watch? Would he  _ like _ this? Would he punish him for touching himself?   
  
A memory took him by surprise: the curve of Yuuri’s smile, the caramelly sound of his voice whispering-

_ “Good boy.” _

Viktor gasped as his orgasm took him, come painted the cubicle door and the tile between his thighs. He shivered through it, jolting like he had been struck by lightning. When he came down to earth, he felt a sharp stab of the most delicious guilt, shame that made his stomach drop in the best way. What would Yuuri think, if he knew?

He lingered in that thought, imagining Yuuri smacking his ass red, denying an orgasm or two… maybe three. His cock made a valiant effort at hardening again, standing weakly between his legs. He ignored it, forcing himself to breathe through it slowly. 

His skin felt too sensitive, rubbed raw as he toweled off. Yuuri was waiting for him, and his heart was in his throat already. 

* * *

Viktor felt pinned down by Yuuri’s heavy gaze when he arrived at the restaurant. Yuuri was already seated in a curved booth near the back, wearing another all-black suit that had Viktor’s eyes wandering. 

Every inch of it was perfectly pressed, not a wrinkle or stray hair. His posture was effortless, flawless as a dancer's. He felt underdressed in his best three-piece suit, the gray Armani from his skating years— it still fit perfectly, even over the leather harness he hoped looked enough like shirt garters to the untrained eye.

“Hello Viktor,” Yuuri said with the smallest curve of his lips— Viktor’s heart flipped in his chest. How one man had so thoroughly reduced him to a mess was beyond him at the moment. “Did you have a nice day?”

Yuuri stood as he drew nearer, taking Viktor’s hand in his own. He wore gloves, again, and Viktor shivered ever so slightly at the texture of them against his skin. He nodded, and when Yuuri narrowed those warm molten-chocolate eyes at him, he hurried to say it aloud.

“Yes, I did.” The words came out in a messy jumble, all at once, clambering to reach Yuuri’s ear first. “It was hard to focus on work, if you’ll believe it.”

Yuuri’s smirk grew and he chuckled softly, motioning to the opposite side of the booth. “I can certainly believe that.” Viktor sat, and was only slightly surprised by a glass of sparkling wine already waiting for him. "I hope you don't mind that I ordered you a drink, I haven't touched it since it was poured."

Viktor knew he could trust Yuuri— one didn't pass background checks at the club without being deemed trustworthy with one's drink.

"But before you drink. A question." Yuuri's words interrupted as Viktor lifted the glass to his lips. There was a small box in his hand, wrapped in a black silk ribbon. "Are you comfortable wearing a toy, Viktor?"

Viktor’s pulse shot through the roof. He nodded so fast he felt like he might have given himself whiplash. Yuuri passed a small black box across the table and Viktor marveled at the weight of it. Perhaps it was the way Yuuri was looking at him, the weight of his gaze, heavy and hot… but when he took the closed box and lifted the lid just below the table, he felt he might melt. 

The toy looked like hand-blown glass, curved, with a ring at the base— the head of it was bulbous and thick and Viktor’s mouth began to water at the sight of it. A small sachet of lubricant was tucked in among the satin, and when he looked up at Yuuri, he saw the smirk of a man who knew  _ precisely _ what he was doing. 

“Do you need help with it?” Yuuri asked, one brow arched high on his forehead, his wineglass in hand. “Or did you help yourself to some prep before you arrived?”

Viktor shivered— of course Yuuri would know. He had stretched himself before dressing, just in case. The heat simmering in his core felt too hot for the suit he was wearing and a wave of doubt washed over him. He wouldn’t make it through their dinner alive, he was sure of it. 

“I… no, I don’t need help.” Viktor answered after a moment, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “I did. Before.”

Yuuri smiled, a dangerous thing that made Viktor’s stomach twist. “Go on then. I’ll order us some hors d'oeuvres.” He finished with a wink, and Viktor hurried to the restroom, nearly tripping over his loafers. As artless as it was to be pushing a toy into himself while bent over a public toilet, Viktor couldn’t feel anything but arousal as the glass settled into place inside him. 

It felt heavy against his prostate, and his cock was certainly eager to rise to the occasion. How long had it been since he had let himself be stretched open this far, this perfectly?

And what did Yuuri have planned for him beyond this?

The attendant cleared his throat and Viktor swallowed thickly against a moan as he stood upright; the toy shifted inside him and it was almost impossible to ignore. The weight of it pushed and pulled at him in every perfect way, and he could see his hands shaking as he zipped his trousers again, tucking his cock up against his stomach in hopes that his hard-on would recede.

Far easier said than done, Viktor realized as he washed his hands and plucked a mint and a discreet, black foil-wrapped condom from the attendant’s tray, leaving a twenty behind. Walking was torturous pleasure, and he hoped he hid it well, though Yuuri’s sly smirk through steepled fingers, his half-lidded eyes nearly had him crawling under the table to suck him off right there. 

“Comfortable?” Yuuri asked in a low voice as Viktor sat, watching his features carefully. Viktor felt like a butterfly on a pinboard, breathless, held down with a simple look. “Viktor.”

“Yes, yes.” Viktor hurried to answer, easing back into his seat, barely noticing the appetizers waiting on his plate. “Feeling quite full.”

"Good." Yuuri's voice was low and warm like a summer sunset. "Not too full for dinner, I hope?" he asked pointedly, and Viktor hurried to open the menu, having nearly forgotten they were supposed to be eating dinner. Every time Viktor looked up from his perusing, Yuuri was looking back, hooded eyes trained on him, on his hands, his mouth. 

Viktor squirmed under the attention and bit back a whine as the plug moved again. Yuuri smiled fondly and took a drink from his glass, and Viktor did the same, though with a shaking hand. Conversation flowed easily from Yuuri, despite Viktor’s breathy responses. Nothing was overtly scandalous, only the occasional heated look derailed Viktor’s attempt to soften. They talked about work, about how they met at the club— it was just ‘the club’, no further details were given, especially where prying ears could hear. 

Yuuri, it turned out, had found the club through the local forum grapevine. Being new to the area had all but required him to move his kink life online, until a few recommended he apply for admission to the Cameo. 

“It came quite highly recommended. A few said it was star studded, but I’m sure you’re not a fan of that.” Yuuri said calmly. It was the first time Yuuri had acknowledged Viktor’s life before his retirement, and though he had anticipated it, the blow landed like a sigh instead of a shout. 

“No, it’s… I want to play without baggage.” Viktor answered, his eyes firmly fixed on his plate of finger foods, untouched. “Without being  _ Viktor Nikiforov _ .”

Yuuri nodded, understanding. “Eat, Viktor.” he implored him with the gentle weight of a direction— even without scening, Viktor felt cared for here, in Yuuri’s company. He obeyed, feeling warm and light as he ate. Yuuri asked him simple questions, with easy yes and no answers. He had quickly redirected from his past on the ice, which Viktor was immensely glad for. 

Even if Yuuri was a fan, Viktor felt the urge to make the exception. Nothing had felt this intoxicating. Yuuri would be worth it. 

Slowly, Yuuri had made his way around the side of the curved table, until he was close enough for Viktor to feel the warmth of his thigh against his. There was a notable pause as Yuuri stared at his lap, and Viktor might have felt embarrassed, if not for the way a careful hand stroked over one of his harness’s straps where it laid across his thigh. 

“You  _ did _ wear something nice.” Yuuri whispered, awed, reverent. “Not just the suit.”

“I did, sir.” Viktor answered at the same volume, a pool of molten warmth bubbling in his core. 

“I’d love to see it all.” Yuuri said, the briefest glimmer of hope shining in his eyes. Viktor flushed and nodded. “Let’s order dinner?”

Viktor let himself float in fantasies of what might happen after this dinner, what Yuuri would do with him after they found themselves alone. They ordered their meals, and Viktor forgot what he requested the moment the waiter was gone. 

“Five years without a proper dom.” Yuuri asked softly, his hand still lingering on Viktor’s thigh. He sounded as incredulous as Viktor was deprived. “You’ve been denying yourself that long…”

“Unfortunate, isn’t it?” Viktor laughed as he sipped at his glass of wine, savoring the taste of it before he went dry for the night. “I had hoped that the Cameo would bring me someone good, it just took a while.”

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed— whether because of the wine or not, Viktor enjoyed the view. “I certainly hope you still feel that way in the morning.”

Viktor laughed, feeling eager as ever. “Your intentions are crystal clear, sir,” Viktor teased, tracing Yuuri’s fingers through his glove. They were expensive, fitted leather, dark and gleaming like new. “Unless these are part of your daily wear?”

“They are.” Yuuri answered simply, curling his hand into a fist and clenching, making the leather squeak against itself. Viktor shivered, the sound sent chills down his spine. “I quite like them. Especially with hobbies like ours.” Viktor sighed, nodding. It was certainly easier to avoid finding your soulmate when your free time was usually taken up by casual sex.

Their food arrived not long after, along with a pair of water glasses— there was no hiding what Yuuri was planning for by that point, and Viktor was exceedingly grateful. They ate in relative silence, sharing heated looks, sumptuous moans of enjoyment. Viktor could so perfectly imagine his cock passing Yuuri's lips instead of his dinner, and he shuddered as the thoughts pervaded the rest of their meal.

When, finally, their food was gone, Yuuri hailed their waiter. Viktor moved to get ready to leave, but Yuuri ordered a dessert instead, a private smile making Viktor wish he could taste it. 

"A chocolate mousse, please. With two spoons."

_ You'll be the death of me,  _ Viktor wished he could say, but he smiled silently instead, wincing as the plug shifted. Yuuri laughed softly when they were alone again, squeezing his thigh in a much too sexy way. 

"You're planning to torture me, aren't you?" Viktor asked, half petulant, half earnest. 

"Not torture. Not really." Yuuri answered softly, "Unless you consider edging  _ torture. _ " Viktor felt his eyes roll back, the mere thought sending a shockwave of pleasure to his core. 

"That's certainly a kind of torture. Pleasurable as it is.” Viktor laughed high in his throat, painfully aware of how red his cheeks were. The waiter interrupted again, leaving their dessert and making a swift exit. 

Yuuri leaned forward, dipping his spoon into the chocolate mousse. "So. You want to scene with me." Yuuri stated. Another fact, not a question. He lifted a bite to Viktor’s mouth and he took it, nodding wordlessly, flushed to the tips of his ears. "But not at the club. Not publicly." Another nod. Yuuri leaned back in his seat, swirling his wine slowly, languidly. He gave Viktor a pointed look, nonverbal cue to answer aloud. 

“Yes.” Viktor answered, his tongue feeling heavy with wine. He wasn’t drunk, he knew what drunk felt like. This was something else. This felt hypnotizing. “Privately.”

Yuuri nodded knowingly, taking a slow sip from his glass. “You’ve been hurt by public kink before?”

“Yes. A long time ago.” Viktor answered, shifting on his sit bones. The head of the plug inside him brushed against his prostate and he froze, biting his lip against a moan, the confusing combination of the memory and pleasure had him flushing. 

“What should I call you while we scene?” Yuuri asked, pressing himself closer, dropping his voice to a near whisper. “And a safeword?”

“Vitya. Please.” Viktor managed, feeling far too hot for his suit and what he was wearing underneath it. “Traffic light system. Red, yellow, green.” Yuuri nodded, and Viktor bit back another moan as the toy moved inside him. Things were becoming increasingly wet and difficult to control, and he leveled a pleading look across the table.

“Do you want to leave now?” Yuuri asked, and Viktor nodded silently, breathing through the pang of pleasure threatening to become a bigger problem. “We can go. Are you comfortable coming with me to my apartment?”

Another nod, and Yuuri waved down their waiter, paid for their meal and left a healthy tip under his wineglass. Viktor blinked and he was in the backseat of a taxi, smelling faintly of menthol cigarettes and bad cologne, but he knew it wasn't Yuuri's. Yuuri gave directions to the driver and they pulled out into traffic. 

Viktor let a heavy breath go as they sped away from the restaurant and into the neon-spattered night. They were anonymous here, in the dark of a Friday night downtown. Yuuri still had his perfect posture, his back straight, his shoulders back, every line and curve of him read  _ control _ , and Viktor shuddered at the way his jacket clung to his arms. 

Yuuri smiled at him from across the bench seat, a soft thing, a warm thing. Viktor swallowed, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. 

Viktor’s hands were folded in his lap, but god, he wanted to reach across and lace his fingers with Yuuri’s. A silly thought, given what they were en route to do. Yuuri hummed along with the pop playing through the car radio and slid across the backseat, closing the distance between them.    
  
Viktor flicked his eyes upward at the driver’s mirror— he couldn’t see the driver’s eyes, and in the dark, he felt some semblance of privacy. Yuuri’s gloved hand came to rest on his thigh, his other arm wrapped around his shoulders. With that leverage, Yuuri leaned in, his breath close enough to be a warm rush of air against Viktor’s ear. 

“Your mouth looked beautiful while you ate, Vitya.” Yuuri purred, wielding the diminutive with devastating accuracy. Viktor pulled in a sharp but silent breath as Yuuri’s hand tightened around his thigh. “I couldn’t stop staring at it, the way your tongue chased every drop of wine I gave you.”

Viktor’s eyes fluttered shut, his chest stuttering as he breathed Yuuri’s name. 

“I can’t wait to peel you out of that suit.” Yuuri continued, his hand sliding closer to the meeting of Viktor’s thighs. “Move your hands?” he whispered, and Viktor hurried to obey, craving the taste of Yuuri’s lips more than he had his dessert. His cock was straining against his trousers, with every small bump in the ride, he could feel the plug shifting inside him, making his underwear growing wet against his cockhead. 

“I’m not going to do anything yet. Not until we’re home.” Yuuri promised, still too far from Viktor’s cheek, still too distant. “I just want to see you.”

Viktor nodded, grateful. “Thank you,” he answered, his eyes opening to see Yuuri’s tongue flick out over his lower lip. He looked ravenous, and Viktor wanted Yuuri to devour him whole. “How much longer?”

Yuuri smirked, a dangerous curve of his mouth. “Not much longer. Be patient for me?” he asked, the sweet request layered with something darker, something headier like a threat. Viktor squirmed, his tie suddenly feeling too tight around his throat. He nodded nonetheless, and Yuuri hummed his appreciation. “Good boy.” 

A gloved hand slid into the short hair at the nape of his neck and he jolted, the touch igniting in him like kerosene in his blood. Before he could move, react physically in any way, Yuuri’s fist sank into his hair and held him still, his back curved in perfect posture. 

“Stay.” Came the order, and Viktor knew he couldn’t have disobeyed. “Good.”

He mourned the loss when the hand in his hair loosened its grip, slipping free… he felt bereft when it was gone, but the car was slowing to a stop in front of one of the downtown high-rises. Viktor had looked for his own place here, before moving into a condo uptown. 

Yuuri paid the driver and mouthed a single word in Viktor’s direction, freezing him in place. 

“Stay.”   
  
He rounded the back of the car and opened his door for him, offering a hand down. Viktor shivered at the touch and took his hand, stepping out into the cold only for Yuuri to ease him into his arm. 

Viktor had never felt more like a trophy than he did in that moment. He had stood on the top step of podiums for over twenty years, kissing gold medals of every shape and size, posed for photoshoots and taken countless interviews. He was a champion, a Living Legend. But on Yuuri’s arm, he was a treasured toy.

He loved it. 

Every step to Yuuri’s apartment built his anticipation, his pulse thudded heavy in his ears. It felt like a trance, following Yuuri down the hall; he wasn't sure how long it had been before a door was pushed open and he was pulled inside. Yuuri had Viktor up against the wall the second the door was closed, his tie wrapped around his hand. Their noses were close enough to touch, just barely brushing, Viktor could lean in and kiss him so easily it had him squirming.

Yuuri held him fast, only allowing his breath to touch him. Yuuri's hand smoothed over his straining cock, fondling him through his trousers. A wet moan gurgled out of his throat as Yuuri squeezed him, his length now thoroughly drenched in slippery precome.

"Sir, please-" Viktor gasped, rocking into his hand shamelessly. "Please." He didn't know what he was asking for, he hoped Yuuri did. 

"Oh don't you worry, Vitya. Soon enough. Down the hall, second door on the left." Yuuri answered, ghosting his breath over Viktor's throat. "Strip. Wait on the bed."

His knees buckled as Yuuri pulled his belt free. "Yes sir." He managed shakily, sliding out of his loafers. "My coat?" 

Yuuri hummed softly, running the back of his hand across the buttons of his coat, flicking every one of them open with quick fingers. He pushed the material off his shoulders and Viktor shuddered at the sudden shift in heat— how much had he been sweating?

"You have five minutes." Yuuri breathed, hanging his jacket in a small closet in the entryway. "Don't touch."

Viktor whimpered and obeyed, stealing one last glance at Yuuri, fully dressed in that all-black suit. God, he was lucky. A slight twinge of nerves took hold as he walked down the hallway, but he pushed through and stepped into what he assumed was a second bedroom. 

His hands shook as he stripped, his sweat-slick skin cooling. There was a full-length mirror in the corner, and Viktor shuddered at his own reflection, the black strapping of his harness standing stark against his pale skin. The straps disappeared below his waist, hiding the bespoke lace briefs he had utterly ruined over the course of their dinner.

Footsteps in the hall had him shivering in anticipation and he rushed through the rest, halfway through unbuckling stubborn sock garters when Yuuri appeared in the doorway. 

"Did someone get distracted by his own reflection?" Yuuri teased, his voice low and dangerous. 

Viktor froze, sinking to his knees on the hardwood floor. He felt caught in every sense of the word, the guilt of failing a task lodged in his throat. The door swung closed and Yuuri crossed the space between them with all confidence. 

"Vitya. Look at me." Yuuri instructed, and Viktor's eyes snapped up to meet his dom's— but his mind was immediately wiped of guilt.

Yuuri had slipped free of his jacket. Viktor hadn't properly prepared for the sight that met him. The vest he had been wearing knocked the breath from Viktor's lungs— it cinched at the waist like a corset, exaggerating the curves of his hips in a mouthwatering way. 

"Wow." was all Viktor managed to say, to which Yuuri chuckled gently. 

"You should see  _ yourself _ , Vitya." Yuuri answered, hungry eyes slaking over Viktor's nearly nude form. "I don't blame you for being distracted, I can't possibly punish you for that."

Viktor sighed, a heady kind of relief washing over him. "Thank you, sir." Viktor babbled, pressing his thighs together. "Should I finish?"

"Please do, beautiful." Yuuri purred, waiting patiently for him to remove his socks and garters. "You're wrapped up like a present for me, aren't you?"

Viktor shivered, nodding. "I wanted to look good for you."

"Mmm, you know when you look good, don't you, Vitya?" Yuuri crooned in reply, stepping between Viktor's parted thighs, nudging a socked foot against the obscene tent in his briefs.

Viktor yelped, his hands immediately splaying on the ground below. "S-sir, yellow."

Yuuri immediately pulled away, kneeling in front of him. His features were worried, and through the haze of arousal, Viktor caught his breath. 

"I should have asked about that first." Yuuri whispered. "I'm sorry. Are feet a no?"

"Feet are a yes. Too much of a yes." Viktor answered breathlessly. "If you don't want me to come embarrassingly quickly, that is."

Yuuri chuckled softly, nodding. "Noted. Color?"

"Green, sir. Please." 

In a moment, Yuuri was standing again, nudging his thighs apart with his toes. “Open.” Yuuri instructed, holding the lower curve of Viktor’s jaw in his hand. Viktor’s mouth dropped open, beginning his descent into the inky dark that he had been craving for so long. Two of Yuuri’s gloved fingers pressed down on his tongue, heavy and demanding. The taste had Viktor moaning— the lingering flavors of lube and latex were present but not intrusive… it added to the sensation. He swallowed down another wet moan as Yuuri’s grip tightened around his jaw, pushing further back into his mouth. 

“Swallow around me, Vitya.” 

Viktor shuddered and did as he was told, nearly gagging on the tips of Yuuri’s fingers brushing the back of his throat, but the sound Yuuri made was far worth the discomfort. Yuuri moaned too, open-mouthed and from the chest. It was music to Viktor’s ears, and it felt like gasoline igniting in his core. 

Part of him ached to know what Yuuri’s flesh tasted like on its own, but this… this would be more than enough. His cock twitched between his legs and Yuuri smiled— a smug, flushed thing that made Viktor whimper around his fingers. 

“So eager.” Yuuri praised, and Viktor thought he might come there on the floor. “Patience, Vitya. Be good for me.” Viktor nodded, as best he could, given his position, his mouth pried open, a wet string of saliva slipping down his lower lip and chin. 

“I’d like to edge you, have you been edged before, Vitya?” Yuuri asked, gently pulling his fingers out of his mouth, dancing them across his tongue. 

“Only on my own, sir.” Viktor answered truthfully, his stomach twisting in an odd but not unwelcome way. “Not with a dom.”

“May I change that tonight?” Yuuri’s voice was smooth and rich like honey, sweeping his thumb along the mess on Viktor’s chin. He nodded and his eyes rolled back as Yuuri pressed his wet thumb back into his mouth, lapping at it until the leather was completely saturated. He would gladly buy Yuuri another pair of gloves if he asked. “May I restrain you? Cuffs and a spreader bar?”

Anticipation only began to build from there, Viktor whining through his consent as Yuuri hauled him to his feet. The plug hit his prostate dead-on and his legs trembled, his thighs snapping shut with the sudden onslaught. Yuuri guided him into that massive bed and set him on his knees, facing a dark iron headboard. It was perfect for the lifestyle they led, but modern enough to vanilla eyes. 

"As lovely as these are," Yuuri said with a dangerous smile, caressing the curve of his ass through his briefs. "I want them off." 

Viktor swallowed thickly and scrambled to free himself of his underwear, his cock bobbing free and heavy and wet between his legs.

"Messy boy." Yuuri noted, rubbing his finger under the e head of Viktor's cock, gathering a generous amount of precome. "Open."

Viktor whimpered and sucked Yuuri's finger clean, sighing at the sumptuous feel of that glove in his mouth— wet, ruined leather.

Yuuri’s hands were warm, if a bit damp with Viktor’s own saliva— as he wrapped padded leather cuffs around his ankles, hooking them into a telescoping spreader bar. Viktor gasped as Yuuri spread his legs nearly into a split, his cock almost brushing the bedsheets. Yuuri made a soft tutting sound, tugging on the bar. 

“Good.” he said simply, the single word of praise felt like licking flame along the exposed undersides of his feet, his calves, his spine. Yuuri had already done so much to pull him under. With another pair of cuffs around his wrists, Yuuri looped two lengths of rope around bars in the headboard, pinning Viktor’s wrists above his head. 

“Pull.” Yuuri instructed, and Viktor did as he was told, tugging as best he could against the restraints. Whatever Yuuri had done was immoveable by Viktor, and he sank further into the helplessness of it. “Good, very good Vitya.” Viktor whimpered, burying his face in a pillow below him. There was some more maneuvering, pushing pillows under his chest to prop him up enough. The metal rings in his harness bit into his skin in a grounding way, as well as the soothing hand running along his flank. He shivered as Yuuri's feather-light touch bordered on tickling.

"Use your colors when I request them, and when necessary." Yuuri's voice was immovable as stone. "My safeword is Blue. If I use it, I will immediately untie you and the scene will end."

"Yes sir," Viktor answered, unable to turn to see Yuuri behind him. He felt the bed shift below him, as Yuuri set one knee on the mattress. He saw a sliver of Yuuri then, still in his immaculate black trousers, his sleeves rolled to the elbow— his gloves still in place. 

“Vitya.” Yuuri purred his diminutive, and Viktor failed to contain a whole-body shudder. “So sensitive and I’ve barely touched you.”

“I’ve been waiting all day,” Viktor answered, his voice wavering as Yuuri’s gloves traced the waist of his briefs, the strapping of his harness where it laid across his thighs. He felt so exposed, so helpless, and god, he loved it. “Looking forward to you t-touching me.”

“You couldn’t quite wait, could you?” Yuuri asked, his voice low and warm as he shifted behind him, tugging him up by his waist, pushing his ass up and back, presenting himself shamelessly. He yelped again, his voice tapering off into a moan as Yuuri spread his cheeks, revealing the plug and his rim fluttering around it. 

“I could tell when I asked earlier. You got yourself off before, didn’t you?” 

Viktor whined, nodding. “Yes, I did,” his breaths came in messy gasps as the sound of a cap clicking warned him of what was coming— a cold drizzle of lube running between his cheeks, along the seam of his balls and down the length of his cock. “I tried not to, I just… god, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Mm.” Yuuri hummed simply, dragging his finger through the lube. Viktor shook, the sensation crawling up his spine. “I can’t fault you for taking the edge off… tonight will be quite a long ride.” Viktor felt some of that tension bleed from his body, but a gentle hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed—  _ hard _ . “But I will be edging you one more round than I was planning.”

Viktor moaned then, feeling his cock throb in Yuuri’s hand— completely unable to move away from the pressure. 

“Unless you disagree? I’d say you owe me one more ruined orgasm, for taking matters into your own hands.” Viktor couldn’t have argued even without Yuuri’s hand on him. 

“N-no, I don’t,” he managed, sucking in desperate gasps to keep himself under control. His head was spinning already. “I don’t disagree.” Yuuri hummed again, and a distant part of Viktor worried he was being conditioned; Yuuri making that sound in any situation would have him hard instantly. 

"Do you want to know what I have planned?" Yuuri asked, an almost tentative edge to his voice. Viktor shook his head, shaking the hardware of his restraints. 

"No, I… I want to be surprised." 

Yuuri made a small, pleased sound, and Viktor wanted to hear more of those. “Shall we begin then?” Yuuri asked, running his hands along Viktor’s tensed thighs, his arched back. “Color.”

“Green, sir.” Viktor blurted his reply embarrassingly quickly, nearly running through Yuuri’s question. “Green. Please.”

Yuuri, it turned out, didn't intend to make it easy for him.

The unmistakable sound of a vibrator interrupted whatever thoughts Viktor was still capable of having. Yuuri was relentless with the toy, dancing it along the length of his cock, pressing it gently against his balls, even the arches of his feet. 

He was cataloging every sound Viktor made, finding the places that drove him wild— and Viktor wasn't surprised by his efficiency. He had seen it with Chris, he had watched himself. It didn't take long for Yuuri to hone in on the places that made Viktor writhe. 

With every tiny movement, that heavy plug shifted inside him, pushing against his prostate without a moment's break, and Yuuri quickly found the right combination of touch, of stimulation, that had Viktor begging. 

With the tip of the toy pressed to the underside of his glans, and the plug slowly pushed in and out of his hole, Viktor was rapidly losing his fight with his patience. His toes curled and flexed in their binds, his chest heaving with Yuuri's onslaught.

He had been teetering on the edge of close for too long already, but when the sleek, rounded end of the vibrator pressed against his perineum, he had to bite back a scream. 

"S-sir, I’m cl-close…” he gasped, his voice pitching higher in step with his arousal. Yuuri hummed softly, pressing the toy harder into him, tugging the base of his plug— he was playing him like a master playing his instrument.

“Sir, please, please!” Viktor cried, rocking back into the sensation. Yuuri clicked the toy up another level and Viktor stifled a scream, his legs shaking, his hips bucking without his control— 

The toy fell away and a rush of breath fell from Viktor’s mouth, along with a slurry of curses in Russian. 

“If you’re going to be mouthy, I’d prefer it in English, Vitya.” Yuuri chided softly, letting the haze of near-orgasm recede over the horizon. “Repeat that for me, please.”

It was a moment before Viktor caught his breath, his legs trembling beneath him. “I, I swore.” his voice barely sounded like his own. “I said— ah, ‘f-fucking Christ’.” Yuuri hummed plaintively behind him, the bedsprings groaning as he moved. 

“Cursing isn’t a good habit, Vitya.” Something cool and heavy brushed against his ass, wide and flat. He swallowed audibly, recognizing the shape of a paddle. “Color?”

“Green.” Viktor answered, a little too quickly. Yuuri laughed, a rumbly thing that made Viktor’s toes curl. A whine bubbled up without his control and Yuuri let the paddle fly. Five sharp blows had him rocking in his restraints, the delicious sting brought him right back to earth. 

“Can I trust you to use English with me?” Yuuri asked, rubbing a smooth, gloved hand over his ass, his skin prickling with the secondary pain of Yuuri’s gentle touch. Viktor nodded, his tongue too heavy for a verbal answer. “Good. Let’s start again.”

Viktor braced himself for the worst, still figuratively blind, unable to turn to see what Yuuri was planning. Only the sound of a cap popping was his clue, before Yuuri’s hands were reaching between his thighs. 

“There’s a toy in front of you, Vitya.” Yuuri told him, dragging his fingertips along the insides of his thighs. “Go ahead, rock forward.”

Viktor moaned at the first brush of warm silicone against his cock, the tight, puckered opening of a stroker made slick with lube. The head of his cock breached it and he choked on a garbled moan, his breath catching in his throat. 

“Go as fast as you’d like.” Yuuri instructed, and Viktor bit down on his lower lip, drawing his hips back and pushing further forward. The further he pressed, the wetter the toy was around him, the lube only momentarily cooling his skin. He wondered just how red he had gotten, being teased and denied for as long as he had… and how much more Yuuri had in store. 

The angle was difficult on his hips, but Viktor relished in the twinge of pain colored in pleasure. The sound his body made was utterly obscene, wet lube squelching around his cock and smacking against his pelvis, his panting breaths and the creak of the cuffs binding him; it felt like a cacophony of lewd sounds, but the quiet, caught breaths he heard Yuuri making were far worth the slight embarrassment. 

“You’re so strong, Vitya.” Yuuri breathed, gripping tight at his clenched ass on an in-stroke. “No wonder all the subs want you. They think this ass is just for wrecking  _ them _ .” 

Viktor whimpered a small  _ ‘fuck _ ’ and picked up his pace, his core clenching with the implication of Yuuri’s words. Yuuri really was going to destroy him. 

“No, no. This ass was  _ made _ for being wrecked. Wasn’t it?” Yuuri’s mouth seemed to run on without him, but god, it had Viktor desperate. His knees began to slide with the fervor of his strokes, and Yuuri took pity on him, pulling the toy back against him with every in-stroke. 

“Yes, yes sir,” Viktor gasped, that tight clench of his core threatening to tip him over. “F-for you to wreck.” Yuuri moaned then, and Viktor knew he was dancing too close to the line. But he craved to hear more of Yuuri’s sounds, more of those delicious moans. 

With a whining, needling moan, Viktor pushed in and stopped, holding himself inside the toy. He was close, too close. His breaths came in short, uneven pants and Yuuri held the toy firm where it was. 

“Oh look at you, Vitya. You stopped on your own.” Yuuri’s voice felt distant, impossibly far. He felt as if he might shake apart entirely, dissolve into billions of pieces if not for Yuuri's hand on the curve of his hip. "Well done, beautiful."

The praise went right to his cock, making it twitch. Yuuri pulled the toy away slowly and Viktor whined as lube dripped down his shaft, pooling below him. He was leaking like a faucet, his cock drooling messily.

"For that, I think you've earned your orgasm." 

Viktor sobbed dry, pushing himself back up as best he could. "Thank you, sir, god, thank you." Yuuri laughed quietly, and Viktor caught a glimpse of something long and red in his hand— another vibrator, maybe. 

"But I won't let you finish until you give me everything you have." Yuuri breathed easily, cutting right through Viktor's remaining defenses. "Until you let go completely, I will not stop." 

Viktor's mouth fell open, wordless protests forming and disappearing instantly. Yuuri easily threw him into his back, twisting the rope binding him to the headboard, shortening his leash and pulling his arms deliciously. His cock flopped heavily onto his stomach, smacking wet against his skin. 

He saw, for the first time since they began, how hungry Yuuri looked, he saw the searing heat in his eyes. Yuuri looked like he was going to eat him alive— and Viktor welcomed it. 

"You have so much in your head. I need you to let it go, just  _ feel  _ with me." Yuuri implored him, pushing his fringe back over his forehead. "You're so beautiful, let me see you completely fall apart." 

Viktor felt himself shudder, a full-body thing shaking from his very center. "But what if I can't?" he managed after a moment, "I… what will you do if I can't do it?"

Yuuri's expression softened instantly and he took Viktor's face in his hands. His gloves were damp and sticky but Viktor melted into the touch anyway.

"I trust you'll use your safeword if you can't." Yuuri's words were soft but deliberate. "The scene will end, we'll go right into aftercare. We'll talk about it, and if you want, we'll try again." 

Viktor felt the prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes but willed them to dry. "Okay. Yes. Okay." He said, forcing out sharp, intentional breaths. "Green. I'm ready." Something heady and demanding settled over him as Yuuri reached for the stroker again, squeezing more lube into the opening.

Yuuri’s smile burned a hole in Viktor’s chest, his focus almost entirely centered on his pecs. With a lube-wet finger, Yuuri swirled one nipple carefully, coaxing it to stand almost as obscenely as his cock. Viktor’s chest shook with the effort of staying still, holding himself back from arching into his hand for more. 

“H-harder?” Viktor moaned, and Yuuri’s smirk grew dangerously playful. “Please, sir?” He added at the silent eyebrow arch Yuuri gave him. 

“Good boy, asking politely.” Yuuri cooed, teasing the head of Viktor’s cock with the stroker. “I’m just going to leave this here, then.”

He pushed the toy fully onto Viktor’s cock and left it there, dribbling lube onto his pelvis, clutching at his hypersensitive skin. Viktor barely mustered a whimper before the breath was stolen from his lungs at Yuuri’s touch— both of his hands descended on his chest, plucking at his nipples relentlessly. Viktor swallowed a shriek at the painful pleasure, and Yuuri carried on.

He alternated one side then the other, swirling and plucking, flicking and tugging— it was impossible to keep up with the sensations, especially when the stroker started moving around him again. 

The sounds it made had Viktor’s tongue lolling out of his mouth, his body squirming and thrashing with thoughts of his own body making that sound, Yuuri’s cock fucking into him, completely wrecking him for any other dom, any other man. 

“You’re thinking too much.” Yuuri huffed, and Viktor struggled to find a retort. With one hand firm around the stroker, one hand now fully groping his chest, tugging his swollen, abused nipple, Viktor barely had enough room in his head for thought with all the dizzying pleasure Yuuri was giving him.

"Stop thinking. Stop trying." Yuuri’s voice was firm and steady as Viktor’s grew more ragged and messy. “Let go.” He demanded, gripping Viktor's thigh with a gloved hand. He doubled his efforts, the wet squelch of lube and slick silicone was dizzying. Viktor could barely breathe without moaning, without writhing under Yuuri’s control. “I know you’re close. I can tell, Vitya.”

“I can’t, sir,” Viktor panted, his eyes rolling back. “Please, I just-” A sharp smack knocked the protest from his lungs as Yuuri’s hand connected with his inner thigh, substituting any words with a shocked cry. 

“You  _ can _ , and you  _ will _ .” Yuuri promised, his voice low like a promise. 

Viktor’s tongue felt too thick in his mouth, his head too heavy for his neck to support. He arched up into Yuuri again, feeling his gloved hand slide up over that spanked skin. The sensation had his toes curling, cool leather against abused flesh… he knew he made a sound, but couldn’t for the life of him describe it. 

“Let go, Vitya.” Yuuri ordered again, twisting the stroker around his cock, now painfully hard. He brushed the back of his hand against his balls, hanging heavy and full between his legs. Viktor sobbed at the sensation, but didn’t move— his ankles were still firmly strapped into the spreader bar. 

“Please,” Viktor gasped, his voice barely a ragged sigh. He slumped to the bed again, his thighs shaking as Yuuri pulled the plug free and replaced it with something warm and thick— the dildo. It felt impossibly thick as it slid into him, though his body took it effortlessly. A long, drawn out-moan fell from his mouth as Yuuri fucked him with the toy, silicone stretching him to his near limit. 

“What’s your color?” Yuuri asked, his hands barely pausing in their ministrations. Viktor mumbled his  _ green, sir _ , in reply and the toy buzzed to life inside him, relentlessly vibrating against his prostate. He let out a shaky sob of Yuuri’s title, thrashing as much as he could, but Yuuri refused to relent. 

“Give me control, Vitya. I know you want to.” Yuuri’s voice was barely louder than the buzzing that Viktor swore he could feel all the way in his throat. His vision was tinting white around the edges, his arms shaking where they were bound to the headboard. The tightness in his core was mounting and his head felt increasingly fuzzy, his breaths barely more than panting gasps for air. 

More than anything, Viktor wished it was Yuuri pulling him apart, instead of inanimate silicone. He wanted to feel Yuuri’s cock tugging at his rim, pushing into him, hot and hard and “Oh  _ fuck _ —”

Yuuri angled the toy just so, hitting his prostate dead-on. A ragged, near-silent scream shook to life in his chest— he was making sounds he barely recognized as his own, sweat pearling in the small of his back, between his thighs, dripping from his brow. His legs shook with the effort of holding himself in such a severe split, his hips ached like he had just stepped off the ice.

He had given it all to the ice. Giving himself fully to it, relishing in the loss of the world around him as he moved, the scrape of his blades over the surface. The heavy thud reverberating through his body when he landed, the vibration of a cheering crowd when the world around him raced back into focus. 

He had left himself behind, on that final podium. Chasing the control he had given the ice while clinging to a hollow crown, afraid to let himself go.

Viktor sobbed and tears finally fell, streaming down his temples and soaking into the pillow below him.

“There it is.” Yuuri whispered, a soft, tender, brilliant sound and pulled the stroker away, but before Viktor could gasp at its loss, a warm hand wrapped firmly around his cock and pulled once, twice, three times. 

Viktor came with a scream.

He came back to his body after an unknowable amount of time, bereft of that vibrating toy, his ankles and wrists no longer bound. His skin was still sticky with sweat and lube, but Yuuri was there, holding him in his lap and running gloved hands through his hair. There were marks left behind by the restraints, their shadows slowly disappearing as he recovered, as Yuuri pushed sensation back into his limbs with firm but caring hands. 

“Welcome back.” Yuuri teased, a small smile on his lips. “Feeling okay? Any numbness? Pain?” It was the general check-in Viktor was used to giving his own subs, but now that Yuuri had brought him to heaven and back, he doubted he would be able to do what he had been doing before this. 

“None. Perfection. The okayest okay there ever was.” Viktor answered, finding his mouth slow to shape words into sentences. He laughed despite himself, and Yuuri joined as well, a bright smile bursting over his cheeks. Viktor marveled at the sight of it, the warm breadth of it… he hadn’t seen Yuuri smile like that before. 

"You're pretty." Viktor added, melting with Yuuri's gentle touch. 

"You should look at yourself, Viktor." Yuuri laughed in reply, and if Viktor had been able to retort at all, he would have argued. “You were gorgeous, taking what I gave you so well. I wish you could have seen it.”

“Next time you should record it.” Viktor melted into him, even more than he had before. Yuuri smiled kindly, pushing his fringe away from his forehead. “So I can see how sexy you are when you’re wrecking me.”

Yuuri flushed a pretty shade of pink, Viktor’s favorite shade of pink, he decided. 

“I think you would like a bath, yeah?” he asked, and a small part of Viktor perked up at the thought. 

“Will you wash my hair?” Viktor asked, one eyebrow cocked up in question. Yuuri, for the briefest moment, looked worried, but shook it off quickly. He wanted to touch Yuuri’s cheek, offer some kind of physical reassurance… but his boundaries were clear, and Viktor wouldn’t push them. Couldn’t.

“Of course. Can I get you a drink? Some orange juice, maybe?” 

Viktor felt his cheeks begin to ache, his smile spreading too wide to contain. “You’re spoiling me.”

“It’s nothing you don’t deserve, Viktor.” Yuuri answered, easing him up onto his rear. “Not too sore?”

“The best kind of sore.”

Yuuri laughed, hurrying to the ensuite. It wasn’t long before the soft scent of lavender was floating through the air with the rush of hot water running from the tap. Yuuri helped him peel out of his harness, running his fingers reverently over the shadows it left behind. He mumbled something under his breath that Viktor didn’t catch, though he suspected it was his first language, given his accent. With a careful but shaky step in, the heat of the water sank into his bones. He slipped into the water as easy as breathing, leaning back in what felt like far too large a tub for an apartment.

Yuuri left him for a few minutes, returning with a small glass of orange juice wearing a pair of black latex gloves. Viktor had nearly fallen asleep in the few minutes he was left alone, but the moment Yuuri pressed the cool glass against his chest, he jolted awake, splashing a bit out of the tub. 

“No naps yet, Viktor.” Yuuri teased softly, sitting on a stool beside the tub. Viktor would have liked for him to join, but this would suffice. 

Wherever Yuuri learned how to perform aftercare, Viktor hoped he could thank them someday. Yuuri was just as perfect after a scene as he was in it; when they weren’t talking softly about their dogs, their favorite TV shows, their plans for the holidays, Yuuri was gently running a soapy washcloth over his skin, pouring water over his hair. 

He was sure, if he could have, he would have gotten hard again, but Yuuri had thoroughly wrung him dry. By the time he was clean and the water was just this side of too cold, Yuuri helped him out of the bath and into a pair of comfy, if small, sweatpants. 

“Can we cuddle?” Viktor asked when he had dried off, eyeing the comfortable-looking couch in the living room. 

“Just for a little while longer?” he asked when the clock chimed midnight. 

“Can I stay the night?” Viktor asked, his eyes threatening to remain closed. “I don’t trust myself to get up my front stairs after that.”

“I…” Yuuri began, something tentative in his voice. Viktor met his gaze, seeing the briefest flash of something in Yuuri’s endless brown eyes. He swallowed and nodded, pulling the blanket up higher around both of them. “Of course.” 

* * *

Viktor woke to the smell of fresh coffee brewing, and, oddly enough, the patter of little paws on the hardwood floor. Light was filtering in through slotted blinds across the room, but he was quite alone in much too large a bed for one person. 

He winced as he rolled out of bed, arching his back and pushing through a few gentle stretches. There was a delicious all-over ache that had him melting with the memory of the night before— Yuuri was  _ incredible _ . His phone had found its way to a charger on the bedside table, next to a glass of water and an aspirin tablet. He took both gladly and made his way back out into the hall.

Yuuri was in the kitchen, drumming his fingers against the countertop while the coffee machine finished dripping. 

“Morning~” Viktor singsonged, and a peal of squeaky barks answered him, a fluffy ball of miniature poodle skittered across the floor toward him. “Oh hello!” he greeted the pup, immediately settling on his knees for the dog to inspect him. 

Yuuri laughed, a tired thing that struck Viktor as wrong somehow. “Good morning, Viktor,” Yuuri quickly issued an order in Japanese, and the puppy whined, but obeyed, sitting where he was, right in Viktor’s lap. “I’m sorry, I probably should have warned you about him.”

“You told me you had a dog last night,” Viktor waved him off with a smile, scratching under the puppy’s chin. “I was wondering if I’d get to meet him.” Yuuri smiled and opened a jar on the counter, giving the dog a treat. Viktor saw the slight tremble in Yuuri’s hand when he moved.

Yuuri’s bare hand. 

Viktor’s heart nearly stopped— he felt like a poor, repressed Victorian maiden, seeing their lover’s ankles for the first time. He felt silly, but this… this was important to Yuuri. He swallowed thickly and decided it best not to think on it any longer than he had to. 

“What’s the dog’s name?” Viktor asked, standing as the pup trotted over to his bed in the sunshine with his treat. 

Yuuri flushed to the tips of his ears and retreated into the kitchen, pulling a mug from the cabinet. “Coffee?” he asked instead of answering, and Viktor rolled his eyes. “Cream and sugar? Milk?”

"Yuuuuuuuuri, that's not what I asked." Viktor teased, leaning over the counter. "But I'll take a little bit of everything."

There was a sharp clatter as the cup in Yuuri's hand fell, the pitcher of milk emptying into the sink. 

"God  _ damn it, _ " Yuuri hissed under his breath, picking up broken pieces of porcelain. Viktor shot up, hurrying to help. "Don't, I can manage it."

Viktor frowned and continued anyway, easily scooping up shards of the shattered cup. "Nonsense, let me help. You're tired—"

"No, I'm not." Yuuri snapped, instantly slapping a hand over his mouth. "I'm… sorry, I didn't mean to." his voice trailed off, but he didn't offer more. His lip was quivering and a pang of something ugly settled in the pit of Viktor's stomach.

"What's wrong?" The question was simple enough, but Yuuri held his tongue. "Please? I understand if you don't want to talk about it with a glorified hookup but I need to know if you need me to call emergency services or not."

Yuuri shook his head silently. "No, please, I'm just…" he trailed off again, his shoulders shaking, his back arched in a severe bow. "Why did you stay?"

"Why did I stay?" Viktor repeated, incredulous. "Yuuri, what-"

“I… I thought you would have left before I woke up.” Viktor heard it then.Yuuri’s voice sounded tired, wrung out like he had been crying. “But you're still here, and.” His voice broke. “I don’t know why you stayed, I took advantage of you.”

Viktor stared at him, genuinely dumbfounded. “Yuuri. What are you talking about?”

“Last night. I used you.” Yuuri answered, as if it made perfect sense. 

“If you took advantage of me, why do you think I asked to stay the night?” Viktor asked, furrowing his brow. “Don’t you think I would have just safeworded and left if you hurt me?”

“I couldn’t let you go home, I… I couldn’t let you be alone after that. After your first time.” Yuuri said, something heavy lodged in his throat. “I thought I pushed you too far. I had to take care of you. Aftercare.”

"Let's sit down." Viktor sighed, pulling the milk pitcher from Yuuri's hand and setting it upright in the sink before they both settled in on the couch. “Yuuri. Talk to me."

“I  _ am _ talking to you.” Yuuri replied in a huff, but Viktor shook his head to interrupt.

“No, I mean tell me what’s  _ really _ going on here.” Yuuri’s eyes fell to his lap and he let out a shaky breath. “There’s something more than this, and I want to know what it is.”

"Please, if I've crossed a boundary just say so." Yuuri whispered, his eyes glued to the floor. "I use domming to help center myself. It forces me to be in control," 

"I can relate."

"It's… not just a control thing. It forces me to work through my-" Yuuri gulped painfully, "My anxiety. The trust a sub gives me, it helps me work through the anxiety." Viktor's mouth fell open, wordless. "It's selfish, I… I took advantage of your submission."

"How is doing that selfish?” Viktor sat beside him on the couch, entranced by the slump of Yuuri’s shoulders, the complete disappearance of his pin-perfect posture. “You gave me the best night of my life." He added, quieter. It still didn’t feel real, despite the bone-deep ache in his hips and groin. 

Yuuri groaned, his voice wet and strained. "But it was... for me. It wasn't for you." he answered, rubbing tears away under his glasses, knocking them askew. This Yuuri, without the suit, wearing his glasses, his soft sleep shirt hanging loose on his shoulders… this felt more intimate than anything he had seen before.

"Maybe you didn't intend for it to be for me.” Viktor argued softly, aching to wipe those tears himself. “But if you want to use me to feel good, to feel  _ right... _ then I want you to use me." 

Yuuri choked on a sob, wrapping his arms across his stomach. The sounds were awful, and Viktor's hand twitched at his side. He had never been good with crying— he moved without thinking.

The first brush over the curve of Yuuri's back was tentative, but his breaths seemed to steady. His shirt was so thin Viktor could feel the warmth of his skin through it. Yuuri moved into the touch with a shaky sigh and for the briefest moment, Viktor's fingertips glanced over the bare nape of Yuuri's neck.

It was instant, a burst of heat between them, the place where Viktor touched him glowed a faint, silvery pink fingerprint. Yuuri gasped, his hand moving to touch that spot and finding Viktor's hand still hovering over his skin.

That burst happened again as Yuuri touched him, leaving a glowing fingerprint at the base of Viktor's right ring finger. 

"Oh…  _ Yuuri."  _ Viktor breathed, his hands over his mouth, tears gathering in his eyes. "You're. I'm."

"Did you know?" Yuuri asked, his eyes wide and soft and brown, so beautifully brown behind his glasses. "You couldn't have known, god. I'm… how? You're my-"

"Soulmate." Viktor finished, his heart shuddering in his chest. How long had it been since he gave up looking? "Soulmates, Yuuri."

Yuuri laughed, raking his hand through his hair, still in disbelief. "I spent all night trying  _ so hard _ not to touch you directly. I gave up looking… I thought I wouldn’t want to find you, so I wouldn’t force you into this mess.” 

Bright, happy tears were flowing freely now, and Viktor couldn't hold himself back any longer. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri's shoulders and pulled him into himself, savoring the sensation of Yuuri's skin against his bare chest.

"Is it so bad to want to be part of your mess?" Viktor asked, holding Yuuri closer than he had imagined he could. "And to ask you to be part of mine?"

"Your life isn't a mess." Yuuri snorted, pushing away with a laugh. "Not like mine."

Viktor frowned at him, reaching out and cupping his cheek. His skin was so soft, so warm. Yuuri felt like morning sunshine under his fingertips. "Everyone's mess is different. I've got the baggage of a world champion figure skater and a pretend dom."

Yuuri laughed softly for a moment, leaning into Viktor's touch a moment longer. "You saw the bad parts. And you didn't leave."

"I don't want to."

"Even before we knew?"

"I would have stayed even if we weren't cosmologically meant for each other." Viktor answered truthfully, pushing every ounce of sincerity he could into his voice. Yuuri blushed, falling forward into Viktor's chest. 

"You're ridiculous," Yuuri mumbled against him.

"Well, I'm your ridiculous now."

Yuuri snorted a laugh. "That's not how the English works." 

"You didn't answer my question." Viktor changed the subject quickly, entirely unwilling to argue semantics. "About your dog."

Yuuri flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, biting his lip. "Please don't be angry?"

"Why would I be angry?"

The pause in Yuuri's explanation felt like it weighed a ton. He covered his face with his hands, a sight which was quite the adorable contrast to the perfectly pressed dom he had seen the night before.

"He's… Vicchan is named after you."

"Yuuuuuri… do you, by chance, follow figure skating?" Viktor asked, a giddy smile on his lips. Somehow this felt better, to know that Yuuri knew him.

"I might have had a passing interest at one point in my life." Yuuri answered through his hands. "You aren't angry?"

"Mm." Viktor hummed for a moment, pressing his finger to his mouth. "I'll forgive you, in exchange for one kiss."

"Just a kiss? I have a sex dungeon's worth of toys and you want a kiss?" 

"It's the one thing I want most from you." Viktor pulled Yuuri into his lap, sliding his hands under his shirt. Yuuri sighed softly, a beautiful sound that Viktor wanted to chase with his mouth. “Please.”

Yuuri smiled and closed the gap between them easily, slotting his lips against Viktor’s in the best way. He was warm and pliant and  _ eager _ , if the way his mouth opened against his was any clue. Viktor welcomed it, nearly shocked breathless by the shift between them. He would get to be Yuuri’s. He might be able to get used to these kisses, get used to Yuuri’s touch, his laugh, his smile. All of this could be his. 

Yuuri pulled away, his eyes moony and warm, his lips parted and shining. 

“I could get used to that.” Yuuri breathed, leaning in for more— which Viktor gladly gave.

**Author's Note:**

> later that day: 
> 
> "So you _are_ a fan. Why did you make me introduce myself?"  
> "I didn't want you to think I'm creepy."  
> "So you fucked me absolutely stupid and _then_ told me."  
> "It seemed like the right course of action."  
> "No further questions."
> 
> thanks for reading folks! have a happy valentine's day!
> 
> <3 ia


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